


A Life, Changed

by Tish



Category: Strangers With Candy
Genre: Chuck Noblet's Tears, First Time, Gen, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8973154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: Chuck Noblet's whole life changed that fateful night he entered that truck-stop rest room.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vivian_moon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivian_moon/gifts).



Chuck Noblet's whole life changed that fateful night he entered that truck-stop rest room.

He'd spent the day bored out of his skull at the education conference, staring at the ceiling during the Innovations in Teaching seminar, daydreaming during the Adolescent Psychology workshop, slumped in the back row of the amphitheatre doodling during the lecture that he couldn't even recall them name of. Now he lay on the bed at the motel, repeatedly thumbing through the tv channels, snatches of shows and ads caught between the static, followed by silent blue screens as he hit the pay for porno channels. He hit a button and the tv switched off, the soft hum of the air-con filling the silence. “Fuck it.” Within seconds, he was on his feet and out the door.

 

After half an hour of aimless driving, Chuck found himself face to face with a huge, greasy burger and fries. Seated in a corner booth at a too-brightly lit, featureless plastic wasteland of a truck-stop diner, Chuck devoured the burnt meat patty, the soggy lettuce, the overhead projector slide masquerading as a slice of cheese. Pausing to chew, he gazed up at the ceiling, idly wondering what the cluster of small greenish circles was doing there. Then the pickle slice fell out of the bun, and enlightenment dawned. He looked round at the 2 or 3 other diners, and the bored server doing her nails, then flicked the pickle up, a triumphant smile crossing his face as it landed in the middle of the encrusted cluster.

 

On his third cup of coffee, Chuck looked around and caught his reflection in the window. The burger was sitting heavy in his stomach and he felt so damned lonely. A truck-stop diner at 3 a.m. wasn't the place to cry, so Chuck slunk into the wash-room, catching the door a few moments after someone who had just entered, his sigh of relief echoing that of the door as it slowly shut behind him.

Chuck froze in his tracks as he caught sight of the man just settling into place at the urinal. He was so beautiful that Chuck almost started to weep.

The other man seemed to sense Chuck just standing there, so he half-turned and smiled. _Oh God, those lips! Those pillowy lips!_ Chuck wailed silently to himself.

“Get on in here. Plenty of room,” the man said, invitingly.

Chuck stiffly approached the other man, staring with growing lust. He was just so unlike the lumpy and hairy truckers outside. This man was slender and had hair like a Greek god. Chuck suppressed an agonised whimper as he stood a few feet away. He looked, he couldn't help himself, but he looked. The man was humming to himself, looking at the tiles, and shaking his cock a little. 

“Don't go all shy on me now,” he whispered.

“WHAT?” Chuck immediately regretted his too loud, too aggressive voice.

“Um, shy bladder? Please don't beat me up, I-” The man's voice reached a full octave higher than normal.

Chuck felt his heart melt and he stepped closer, eyes pleading. “Oh God, I didn't mean to scare you. Look, my name's Chuck, pleased to meet you.” He stuck out his hand and the man took it.

“Geoffrey, pleased to meet you,” the man smiled with those ridiculous lips again and they just stared at one another.

 

Chuck flicked his eyes down, then up again. He felt blood rushing in his head and pushed Geoffrey over to a stall. Far from complaining, Geoffrey practically picked Chuck up and carried him inside. Regaining his balance, Chuck pressed Geoffrey against a wall and kissed those stupid lips. They tasted better than that burger at any rate.

Geoffrey's hands were all over Chuck, working his shirt buttons loose, and rubbing down his soft stomach. Chuck pushed up Geoffrey's loose shirt and felt his abs in amazement. _What the hell is this guy packing?_ he wondered to himself. Then he moved a hand down and remembered Geoffrey hadn't tucked himself in. On auto-pilot, Chuck sank to his knees and took Geoffrey's cock into his mouth. He felt like he'd died and gone to heaven.

Chuck heard a sound of stomping footsteps and a belch. He froze, realizing that the stall door didn't go all the way to the floor. He tried to hide on top of the toilet seat at the same time as Geoffrey, desperation and fear of exposure gripping him like a vice. The trucker went into the neighbouring stall and Chuck took his chance, unlocking the door to flee.

He didn't see Geoffrey watch him go, heartbroken as he slumped back against the wall.

 

The noise of the shower covered Chuck's guilt-ridden sobs, and he stayed until the water ran cold, punishment for his sins. Eventually, he shut off the shower, dried off and crept into the bed. His burning loneliness made even worse by the memory of Geoffrey, if that even was his real name. Chuck lay awake in the dark until the sun rose, then he slept, ignoring the wake-up call. He didn't care for any more seminars, he just wanted to wallow in self-loathing for a while.

Hunger drove him from his bed and he stumbled out to his car, driving aimlessly again. He found another diner, seemingly identical to last night's shame-filled truck-stop, got something to take out, and sat in his car to eat. He puled the hot-dog from its sack and slid it into his mouth, working his tongue around it, lapping at the mustard and relish. Suddenly, he stopped, looked at it and began to weep.

 

On the drive back to the motel, Chuck looked to the sky. “Lord, give me a sign,” he begged. As he looked back to the road, he saw a church, shrugged and turned into the lot.

The church was smallish, dim and cool inside. Chuck paused to watch the candles flicker and stepped back in shock as he saw the statue of Jesus. Clad in a gold loin cloth, this Jesus was seriously ripped, his hair cascading down just like... _him_.

“Oh God!” Chuck cried out as he fled, sobbing.

A few moments later, an elderly priest shuffled out from a side room, and looked around the empty church in bewilderment. He looked inquisitively up at Jesus, pondering the money a talking Jesus statue would rake in from the faithful flocks.

 

Chuck spent the rest of the term break hanging like a shadow over his house. Clair had gritted her teeth and taken it for 2 days before fleeing to her sister's with Seamus, much to everyone's relief. 

 

The new term crawled to a start and Chuck walked back into Flatpoint High, as crushed and filled with self-loathing as ever. He walked over to the teachers' lounge hoping to fortify himself with the only decent thing the place offered, piping hot, freshly brewed coffee. Principal Blackman blocked the kitchen area, yammering away to someone, so Chuck coughed and started to slide by. He froze in place as Onyx turned and slapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Noblet! We have a new teacher. Say hello to Mr. Jellohead,” Blackman boomed.

As Blackman moved aside, Chuck felt elation and sickness, despair and joy, as well as a tightening in his pants.

Geoffrey smiled sweetly. “Actually, it's Jellineck. Geoffrey Jellineck.”

“Same difference,” Onyx waved his hand dismissively.

Chuck hadn't heard a word either of them were babbling on about. He was lost in Geoffrey's tumbling hair, his chocolatey eyes, and those lips. Those pillowy lips. It took all his willpower to not sink to his knees in wretched, jagged tears.

 

Nobody noticed Chuck and Geoffrey just staring at each other, motionless and silent. Nobody cared. All too soon, the bell sounded for first period, and Chuck swallowed back the urge to pounce on Geoffrey as soon as the room was empty.

“I gotta go, Chuck,” Geoffrey was all deceptive sweetness as he gazed at Chuck, slowly moving closer to press against him. “But you still owe me a little something, and I intend to get it.”

Chuck's stomach did a cartwheel. “12:35 in the boiler room?”

“It's a date,” Geoffrey's kiss was sweeter than any wine. He knew he'd be back to hating himself soon enough, but he didn't care. All he knew was that his life would never be the same again.


End file.
